


(up in our bedroom) after the war

by ballerinaroy



Series: nineteen years later seems pretty far away [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Codependency, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Bed Sharing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 15:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17603546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballerinaroy/pseuds/ballerinaroy
Summary: The war has ended and they are not the people that entered it. Harry, Ron, and Hermione must figure out what they want next and how their relationship will work when they no longer need to rely on the other two with their lives.A story chronicling the summer after the battle as a codependent trio navigates a post-war world.





	(up in our bedroom) after the war

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by the band Stars. 
> 
> I've spent a lot of time thinking about what the summer after would have been like for Harry, Ron, and Hermione and this is my best guess as to what it looked like. This is the first in a series of one-shots featuring a strong friendship between the trio and the significant moments after. I hope you enjoy!

_Hermione_

It takes her several moments to recall where she is. Ron’s arms around her, Harry’s slow breathing in her ear. For a moment Hermione fears that one of them has fallen asleep on their watch only for the familiar-looking four-poster bed to allow her to fully realize where she is, what has happened. They’d won. Voldemort was dead. Their mission was complete.

Her whole body aches, every inch of her feels groggy and sluggish.

Even though they’d showered last night before they collapsed into the fourposter beds they’d pushed together, Hermione still feels dirty. Her skin feels covered in a layer of grime that hadn’t washed off. She wonders whether it was the tent or the battle that had caused the film on her skin. She wonders if her skin will ever feel like her own again.

Ron lays behind her but she can tell he is not sleeping. In front of her, laying on his back, Harry’s eyes flutter from moment to moment, not really taking anything in.

Her body screams in protest as she rolls onto her back and, with some effort, she tilts her head to look up at Ron.

He wears a dazed expression, but his lips twitch into a smile as he studies her.

“Hey,” he croaks at her, his voice not sounding quite right.

Hermione parts her lips to answer, but her throat won’t cooperate. Ron seems to understand at once and before she can even point at the glass on the bedside table he’s already reaching for it, grunting from the easy motion. She drinks greedily from the glass, draining it and is grateful when Ron fills it again with a flick of his wand, only some of the water splashing out onto the blankets twisted around them.

Ron’s still watching her with an expression she has become intimately familiar with over the past year. It makes her heart flutter, even more now that her lips have tasted his and she understands better his affections. She wants to kiss him again but can’t quite bring herself to with Harry still asleep beside them, so she settles for pressing her chest against his and cuddles against him.

The corners of Ron’s mouth twitch in a smile and he replaces his arms around her, stroking her back gently for a moment before his hand settles in the curve of her small back. For the first time in weeks, she notices how long their hair has gotten. They’ll be needing proper haircuts, and not what she attempted to do while in the tent. She will too for that matter, she’d avoided looking at it last night but in the shower, it had felt coarse and uneven in her fingers.

“You alright?” Ron murmurs in her ear and she finds the most tender expression on his face when she looks up but he hasn’t been talking to her at all, rather Harry whose eyes dart around in a panic.

It makes her throat ache, and not just from the screaming and smoke they’d inhaled. The love they all feel for one another, after all they’ve been through being able to simply be with one another. It feels like a gift she doesn’t deserve.

“Fine,” Harry gasps sounding seconds away from tears. She reaches out and laces her hand with his. “We’re fine.”

And it’s with this realization that they all dissolve into tears.

 

_Ron_

They can’t leave Hogwarts, or rather they have nowhere else to go. The Burrow had been compromised and though Bill goes there each day he won’t let them join him until he’s certain he’s broken all of the waiting curses.

Ron doesn’t think Hogwarts is the best place for any of them. Too many people with their voices all too loud. They’d spent months on edge trying to hear the voices of those hunting them. It’s hard to distinguish who’s a friend and who’s a foe.

Everyone wants to hear their story and the redacted version they gave on that second morning is all they’re interested in sharing. Harry seems essential to every meeting and of course, he takes them with him because as Harry keeps telling everyone, Hermione’s their brains and she’d be a much better help than him.

Ron knows he can’t say anything to convince Harry to slow down, Hermione either. He knows that Harry feels personally responsible for every tiny detail of the war. Trying to tell him to stop or say no will only make Harry fight him and more than ever Harry needs him. So Ron follows them into each and every room and ensures they eat and sleep and only speaks up when someone is trying to use Harry’s hero complex for their own agenda.

He makes sure they eat and calls for breaks when he’s not really hungry yet because he knows if he doesn’t they’ll both work themselves into the ground. Not that he blames them. He knows looking after them is an easy distraction and the moment he stops thinking of them his mind drifts to places he’d rather it not. Like the reason for the scar on Hermione’s neck or the reason his shoulder still aches or the reason why Harry’s hand is still raw and red.

It all blurs together into an endless scene of disasters. They shouldn’t have made it out alive. How are they still alive?

“Mate?” Harry asks.

Ron looks around with a start. They’d been getting ready for bed. Hermione had insisted on them sleeping in the same bed on the first night and hadn’t bothered to put it right. Hermione said the charms wouldn’t hold with any space between the two beds. She’d applied all of the familiar charms that had kept them safe all of these months. Ron wasn’t quite sure who was going to attack them but it never hurt to be too careful. Though it did give Neville a right start when they exited the safe bubble on the first day.

“What were you thinking about?” Hermione asks, now they’re both looking at him.

For a moment he wants to make a joke but he knows it won’t fool them and Hermione keeps telling them they need to get it all out in the open rather than bottling it up.

“That we shouldn’t be alive,” he replies before he can think too hard on it.

To his surprise they both nod at him rather than correct him and Hermione pulls him close when he lies down next to her.

 

_Harry_

His mind and his body still seem caught in battle. Even though he remembers what has happened, what they have done, his unconscious mind is still in the midst of war. The meetings don’t help. Voldemort might be dead but the endless meetings feel the same as the strategy sessions they had in the tent to plan their next moves.

At night Harry is still plagued with nightmares, endless scenes of blood and spiders and bright cruses all around them. Greyback attacking Lavender and when Hermione should be shouting “no” suddenly she is underneath the monster and they’re in the ballroom and Bellatrix’s cold, inhuman laugh is in his ear. Most nights he awakes in a sweat, breathing heavy with his heart beating impossibly fast. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be alive.

One of them is always awake when his eyes shoot open to his familiar four-poster bed, disoriented. A result of being on watch for months. Another side effect of war.

“It’s alright,” they mummer to him in low voices to not wake the other. “It’s over.”

Harry wonders if they are intentionally speaking the same words to him. Harry wonders if they even know they wear the same expression when they look at him. He’s grateful for them still, steadfast in their friendship and loyal beyond the war he drug them into.

They still sleep side by side, four-poster beds pushed together. Harry had feared after the first night that they would separate from him but they don’t seem to be going anywhere. In fact, they never leave him alone. Hermione going to the loo is the only time both of them aren’t within arms reach.

It always takes him a few minutes to fall back asleep. Ron always manages to roll right back over after waking up and Hermione wants a chat when she calms down. Usually, she wants him to talk too but tonight she simply rolls over and takes his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“It doesn’t feel right,” he says after a few minutes. “My chest.”

Hermione looks alarmed at him and opens her mouth to fire a dozen questions at once, but he talks before she can get started.

“Not like that, just, since the Horcrux’s been gone it hasn’t felt the same,” he explains.

She studies him for a minute, it’s clear she’s been dozing because she’s not her usual talkative self, before moving closer and laying her head onto his chest. He wonders if she can feel how fast his heart is beating but the pressure on his torso feels nice and he can’t bring himself to open his mouth again.

“Is it a good different?” she murmurs after a few minutes.

His heart has finally calmed down under the comforting weight of her head and he can feel himself drifting back to sleep. “I think it will be.”

 

_Hermione_

It's Lavender’s parents coming to school that makes it finally all real for her.

They arrive on the fourth morning after, not knowing and their anxious eyes sweep the room endlessly as McGonagall pulls them into a side room. Their wails break the chatter as the mood shifts into something more morose. It doesn’t take much to cause the room to change moods. Pavarti joins them as they go down to the room where the bodies are still being kept.

It seems so silly now, how long Hermione spent hating Lavender for daring to have feelings for the same boy as she did. So juvenile, yet it was only a year ago when they were exchanging cool looks and snide remarks during their time in shared spaces. It feels as if from a different life.

“You cared for her,” Hermione says when Ron tries to hide how uncomfortable he is, avoiding their eyes as they pass. “And she was very brave.”

They emerge after several hours and sit on the side of the great hall, openly weeping. Pavarti is there too, not really talking and half-full cups of tea in their hands. Her mind swirls, unable to concentrate. Lavender’s parents aren’t much older than her own, her father wears the same glasses.

“Her parents look a lot like mine,” she tells Harry when he asks her if she wants to go over and talk to them. “Same age, same height.”

The same dazed look her father got when for just a minute she was completely honest with them, telling him that she was going off to fight a war and she might not come back.

“If I had died my parents wouldn’t have even known to miss me,” Hermione continues, not breaking the intense stare. “They’re going to have to live with it for the rest of their lives.”

“Hermione—“ Ron starts, putting his arm around her. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

And though she knows he was right it doesn’t feel true. There was plenty of circumstances leading to the moment where Hermione blasted Greyback off of Lavender that she could have prevented the moment after. If only she’d done a cushioning charm or gone over to try and heal her injuries or—

“Survivors guilt,” Harry whispers in her ear as if reading her mind. She turns to him in shock. “It’s alright Hermione, we all feel it.”

“Since when do you listen to me?” Hermione says as he takes her hand and squeezes it.

Harry smiles at her. “If I hadn’t we’d all have been dead a long time ago.”

 

_Ron_

They finally escape on the tenth day after the battle. Unable to find any more curses Bill finally deems his childhood home safe to reenter. At once his mum is herding them all out of the door. Ron knows she doesn’t like not knowing where they all are. He hopes having them back where she can always reach them will ease the anxious lines in her face.

His bedroom smells worse than he can ever remember the attic smelling even in the worst heat of summer. Before the vile smell can even really hit him Harry is retching and Hermione is trying to clear the air. Even after an hour of charms trying to remove the smell from the room it still reeks like something inhuman.

“I think we’re going to have to get rid of the mattress,” Hermione tells him with an apologetic expression. “And the blankets.”

He frowns at the bed he’s known his whole life and the soiled Cudley Cannon blankets he saved for a whole year in his childhood to purchase. It’s not much and he’s outgrown his obsession with the team whose colors match his hair, but he doesn’t own very many things and it seems unfair that the war is taking this from him too.

Hermione and Harry’s expressions are hesitant like they’re afraid he’s going to be upset over this injustice.

“It’s alright.” He tells them both with a sigh at the bed he grew up. It’s one of the last relics of his life before his friends and the war they were raised in. “It’s just a bed.”

It’s how they end up sleeping in the middle of the floor in sleeping bags, just as they had all those months on the run. He likes it better this way. Ron’s gotten quite used to having them both within arms reach even at night. He’s not quite sure he’s ready to have Harry even the bedroom width apart.

 

 

_Harry_

It takes several days for the Burrow to smell like his memories and even longer for idle wands to repair the dents and scratches the needless spells had inflicted on the home.

“There was no one here,” Ginny laments to Charlie as they sit outside. “There was no need to destroy our home.”

She’d found some pieces of an old picture frame in the garden, evidently tossed outside. There’s not enough to repair it. Not enough even for her to identify which picture had been smashed. Part of Harry wants to go over and comfort her but before he can make up his mind to Charlie is guiding her away.

Harry watches her go with conflicted emotions. They haven’t had a chance to chat and Harry isn’t quite sure what he’d say to her anyway. He knows beyond a doubt that he’s in love with her, but he doesn’t think it’d be fair to throw himself at her for comfort until he was ready to comfort her too. All he can manage at the moment is Ron and Hermione’s company at any rate. They are the only ones who don’t question him and it’s because they already have the answers.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hermione asks when he turns back to them.

Hermione is studying him with one of her expressions usually reserved for homework and Harry knows if he starts talking that she won’t stop quizzing him until they get to the bottom of it.

“No,” he answers honestly with a shake of his head. “Not yet.” 

He’s surprised when she offers her hand and guides them away. He hadn’t expected to get off that easy.

 

_Hermione_

She tries to sleep in Ginny’s room, she really does. But after months of always having them feet away from her, several flights of stairs in the bedroom farthest away feels wrong. If something were to happen she’d be the last to know. Every-night she settles in with Ginny, sometimes chatting, but most of the time silently climbing into their respective beds and mulling over their own thoughts. Sometimes the nightmares wake her up and she’s halfway up the stairs before she realizing what she’s doing. Other nights she can’t fall asleep at all and tells herself she’ll just check on them but never leaves.

She knows that Mrs. Weasley knows and isn’t happy about it or rather would be unhappy about it but is having a hard time feeling anything right now. They’re all having a hard time feeling anything right now.

The only thing that feels normal to her, which it shouldn’t because it’s all so new, is lying next to them both when Ron’s arms snake around her. Or in the few precious moments when Harry’s in the loo that he’s kissing her desperately.

It’s the latest she’s ever stayed in her bed, though she’s hardly gotten any sleep, but they’re still awake when she creeps up the stairs and knocks cautiously on the door.

“We were wondering where you were,” Ron says with a smile.

Before he might have teased her about knocking when she used to barge in on them and she’s sure he will again and soon, but for now, he simply looks relieved as she shuts the door and climbs in between the both of them.

 

 

_Ron_

Fred’s funeral takes place three days after they arrive at home. They bury him in a hole dug by George and Percy just at the tree line and they can see the headstone through the kitchen window. He stares out of it as they pile back into the house, vaguely aware as the few people they’d invited slowly trickle out with promises of meeting in happier times. 

George and Lee have their backs to him, still in front of the gravestone. George hasn’t said a word in days since coming home. Ron is grateful when Hermione and Harry don’t follow him back outside at dusk with a bottle of firewiskey that they pass around the three of them, silently crying. He’s equally grateful when he comes back inside in the wee hours of the morning to find them both on his bedroom floor, silent side by side with a perfect view out of his window at the place he’d been standing.

He collapses in the middle for the first time, not taking in what they’re saying. His mind is groggy and his skin feels frozen. He can hear their voices but can’t make out what they’re saying as they pile their blankets on him and settle down. When he wakes up in the middle of the night crying, not really sure he’s even fallen asleep, it’s Harry’s arms that pull him into a hug and Harry’s chest that he buries his face into.

 _It’s not fair._ Ron thinks. Of all of his brothers to die in the war. _It was supposed to be me._

 

_Harry_

The days start to bleed into one another. It reminds him of being in the tent. Endless days spent waiting for what came next. It makes his skin itch with anticipation and makes him jumpy whenever there’s an unfamiliar noise. With eleven other people in the house, there’s always a strange noise.

Ron and Hermione seem just as agitated as he, pulling their wands when someone walks into a room. It’s a wonder they haven’t cursed anyone yet, though there have been several close calls.

“We should be doing something,” he tells them both as he paces again. He knows it drives Ron mad but he can’t help the restless energy stored in him. “I can’t keep sitting here all day.”

Hermione looks up from the book she’s not really reading and studies him as she thinks.

“Maybe we could go to Hogwarts,” she offers after a moment of thought. “I’m sure they have got a plan for repairs by now. We could offer to help with that.”

Ron looks interested at least in this. He’s spent most of the day laying with his head in her lap while she sits with her back against the wall. Harry had tried to sit calmly with them but it’s already noon and they haven’t left the room but for breakfast.

“Think we could go tomorrow?” Harry asks at once.

“Maybe we should write Professor McGonagall first. Make sure it’s secure there.” Noticing the sour look on Harry’s face she adds. “And to make sure they’re wanting help and we wouldn’t be getting in the way. Hand me my bag will you?”

Harry obliges at once, joining her as she fishes through the worn beaded bag and produces some parchment and a quill.

“Once we get a reply you should ask Ginny if she wants to come,” Hermione tells him as she finishes the letter and they compose themselves to go in search of an owl.

Harry’s not quite convinced he’s ready for that but doesn’t think she’ll take to him saying so so he says nothing at all.

 

_Hermione_

They end up at Hogwarts most days which suits her just fine. She could tell how frustrated Harry was becoming with not being able to leave the house. For all he talked about wanting a nice quiet life after the war she can’t imagine him being happy with anything nice and quiet. Ginny joins them some days but more often than not she joins other groups rather than working with them. Hermione had hoped that Harry would find a chance to talk to her but he doesn’t seem ready to talk in front of them and doesn’t seem ready to leave them either. Not that Hermione minds. She’s not sure they’re ready to be apart from one another yet.

It doesn’t help that they’re closer to the start of term than the end of the battle and McGonagall had already been hounding them on coming back to complete their seventh year. Hermione knew at once by the expressions on Harry and Ron’s faces that they had no interest in returning to Hogwarts.

“But it’s your home,” Hermione pleaded with Harry thinking he’d at least consider it. “How can you not want to go back?”

“We’ve already been offered Auror positions,” he reminds her with an uneasy smile, fearful of disappointing her. “Why would I go back to school to get qualified for a job I’ve already been offered?”

Hermione had hoped in convincing Harry that Ron would agree to join them but she knows he’ll never consider it without Harry. Truth be told she wouldn’t be considering it without knowing one of them was going to be with Harry.

During one of their visits to Hogwarts, Harry surprises them both with a request to visit the Hogs Head before returning home. They hurry along High Street with their heads down, not wanting to make conversation with the people trying to catch their eyes. Aberforth seems unsurprised, albeit not entirely pleased, to see them. He beacons them into his backroom without a word and pours them all healthy glasses of wine.

Aberforth is easy company as he seems genuinely uninterested in where they’ve been for the past year or what exactly they did to defeat Voldemort. Hermione wonders if he is waiting for them to tell their tale or already knows more than he cares to.

“Mind if I take this?” Harry asks at the end of the meal.

He’d been asking about Ariana for the past few minutes and now is pointing to the mirror as if he’s just noticed it.

“Go on,” Aberforth says gruffly, clearly not fooled by Harry’s sudden interest. “Not like I’ll be wanting to chat with ya.”

Hermione half expects Harry to offer the mirror to Ron to use while they’re Aurors or perhaps save it for when he and Ginny are able to say more than pleasantries to one another. So she is surprised, but pleased, when instead Harry offers the mirror to her.

“For when you’re at Hogwarts,” he tells her, pressing it into her hand when she doesn’t take it. “So we can still talk.”

“Harry,” she mummers to him. “I haven’t made any decisions.”

Truth be told she still can’t imagine being away from them, even for a day.

“You can give it to Ginny you know,” Hermione says, holding his hand.

She wants to give him permission to move on, to separate from them though she’s not quite sure that she’s ready for it either. The three of them seem so intertwined in her mind, the idea of him leaving them feels wrong.

“I haven’t spent a day apart from you for months,” Harry tells her. “This way we can still talk.” He glances over at Ron. “All of us.”

 

_Ron_

Ron had expected Hermione to nag him more about going back to school with her but she seems to drop it once Harry puts the mirror in her hand. Despite everything, he finds himself a little hurt. He knows how much Hermione cares about him, why wouldn’t she want him at school with her?

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asks once Harry has drifted off.

“Nothing,” he says at once.

Hermione lets out a sigh but snuggles closer to him. “I feel like I’ve done something wrong, I don’t like it when you’re cross with me.”

“I’m not cross with you,” he answers, and at least that’s partially true.

He’s not cross with her really, more feeling inadequate once more. It’s not like he was a particularly good student and he’s not wanting to go back to school. So he can’t understand why everyone nagging Harry to go back when Harry’s marks matched his own. Well, aside from the fact that he’s _Harry_. And well, he’s just Ron.

Hermione sighs again but doesn’t pull away. Ron wants to be honest with her, he really does, and he spends a moment trying to put into words how he’s been feeling with a bit of the tact Hermione was always claiming he didn’t have an ounce of.

“Why don’t you want me back at school with you?” that’s not what he’d meant to say at all.

At once Hermione shoots up, nearly knocking him in the face and looks at him anxiously.

“Of course I want you back at school with me,” she says at once in a too loud voice. “I can’t imagine spending a whole day without you. I get sad just thinking about it.”

He softens, looking at her, but it doesn’t absolve the feeling in his chest. “Then why haven’t you nagged me about going back?”

“Oh,” Hermione says at once in understanding, glancing back at Harry who is still facing away from them. “Oh Ron, I was just hoping if I could convince Harry that you’d be willing to come along too but I know being an Auror is your dream and I can’t ask you to give that up for me.”

Ron’s about to say that he would for her, and it was true he’d give up just about anything for her, but he’s scared that it’ll cause her to throw more weight in trying to convince them to go back.

“Besides,” Hermione continues, still looking worriedly at him. “We need to be with Harry anyway, I don’t think we’re quite ready to be apart yet.”

He gives her a small smile and which she returns before settling back down, laying her head on his chest.

“Hermione,” he says after he’s considered her words. “You are planning on going back, aren’t you?”

Her hesitation gives her answer.

“You’ve got to go back Hermione,” he says at once. “You were top of our class, brightest witch of our age and all that. You can’t be considering not going.”

Hermione peers up at him again with tears in her eyes. “I don’t think I’m ready to be apart from you both. Harry’s not okay, I’m not okay.”

“I’ll be with Harry, yeah?” he tells her. “I reckon you’ve rubbed off enough that we could last a few days without you.”

The corners of her mouth twitch and then fall. “But then I won’t get to be with you.” She admits in a small voice.

“I know,” Ron answers, running his fingers through her hair and feeling considerably better about himself. “But we’ll have the rest of our lives to be with one another after you’ve managed seven N.E.W.T.S.”

“I don’t know about seven,” Hermione says at once, but she’s smiling at him admiringly and doesn’t seem to have anything more to say when he kisses her.

 

_Harry_

He’s not sure if it’s him or her but suddenly Harry finds himself sitting next to Ginny at dinner each night. They don’t talk much, he can hardly look at her, but it’s comforting, all the same, to have her so close again. He begins to dismiss the thoughts that perhaps there’s been a dark aura surrounding him that makes everyone shy away. Their hands graze under the table, sending a wave of warmth through him and for a moment he considers pulling her out into the garden and pouring out his heart. But the moment passes and her hand slips away.

“You and Ginny have been sitting next to each other a lot,” Hermione comments, her eyes bright as they prepare for bed.

For a moment Harry allows himself to smile as daydreams of spending hours alone with her flit through his mind.

“Yeah,” he concedes as the visions are dashed with the memories of watching her charge into battle, wand raised and emerging with blood in her hair and burns on her hands. “But I’m not ready, not yet.”

Harry expects her retort but somehow she’s silent and when he braves a peek at her Ron’s hand is steady on her shoulder. He meets Ron’s eyes who nods at him in approval and understanding. It’s only later when Hermione’s soft snores are the only sound in the room that Ron finally says what’s on his mind.

“I don’t mind you know,” Ron says in a soft voice, “You being with Ginny.”

For a moment he considers faking sleep but when Harry opens his eyes, Ron is looking at him knowingly.

“Thanks,” Harry manages, remembering the months he spent agonizing over what Ron would say and longing to hear those very words. “I just need time to make sense of everything that happened.”

He pauses for a moment, looking at Hermione who was still breathing deeply.

“I don’t think I should tell her what’s happened and I don’t think it’d be fair to lie to her either,” Harry says in a soft voice. “You’re lucky that you don’t have to explain yourself.”

“I am lucky,” Ron agrees softly, gazing down at Hermione with a fond expression. After a moment he adds. “I don’t think you should lie to Ginny either. Wait until you’re ready but I think she deserves the whole truth, everything that happened. I know we said we wouldn’t tell anyone but we think it’s only fair.”

Harry isn’t quite sure when they would have had the time to discuss this or if Ron was simply speaking for Hermione but either way Harry supposes he is right. He feels a sudden rush of affection for his friends. It was easy seeing them together, made him less worried about them. He knew they would protect each other as fiercely as they’d protected him.

“I don’t mind you know,” he tells him in a soft voice. “The two of you being together. If you need time alone—“

“Thanks,” Ron echoes with a smirk. “We are getting time together, and we’re trying to figure this out too so don’t leave us yet.”

 

 

_Hermione_

“I’m pleased to hear you’ll be resuming your education,” McGonagall says when she pulls her aside during one of the meals still hosted at Hogwarts.

It has become the de facto home for those whose lives aren’t quite put back together. The last safe place for those who lost those they loved during the war and those who are still trying to locate their loved ones. The crowds ebb and flow with familiar faces. In any given minute the tone of the room would be joyous with sounds of reunions as new faces came out of hiding then the tone would shift abruptly with wails of pain with news of someone lost.

At once she’s offered the spot of head girl but turns it down in favor of the privilege of leaving the grounds every weekend.

“I know it’s unusual,” Hermione says before McGonagall can grant her request. “But I’m not quite sure I’ll be able to reacclimate fully to being a student again. It feels a little too restrictive with everything that’s happened.”

“I understand,” McGonagall says at once, following her eyes to where Ron and Harry stand just feet away chatting with Oliver Wood. “I remember what it is to be young and in love.”

Hermione can feel herself blushing but doesn’t deny it. “It’s not just that, it’s always been the three of us. I don’t know how I’d manage without seeing them for months at a time.”

“You’ve done a great service to the wizarding world, Miss. Granger,” McGonagall reminds her. “The least Hogwarts can do is accommodate you on your next quest.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione says at once.

“Besides, I daresay you won’t be the only student asking to leave the grounds, I don’t think many parents will feel comfortable going so long without seeing their children after what we’ve been through.” McGonagall is scanning the crowd again, and nods at a person Hermione doesn’t recognize who’s been trying to get her attention. “I’ll be grateful for any family that trusts us with their children.”

Before Hermione can reply McGonagall sets off down the hall to speak with the young woman. Hermione watches her go, noticing not for the first time that she can’t think of a time where she’s seen her professor off of her feet for more than a quarter of an hour. Their part of the battle might have been impossible but Hermione is not envious of the people completing the tasks that still remain.

 

_Ron_

A dementor seems to float through every third day but it finally seems to be getting warmer. Nowhere near as hot as it usually got in July, but warm enough not to need a jumper throughout the evening. It results in more people spending time in the garden and getting out of each other’s hair. Mum is still insisting on none of them leaving, except for Charlie who had convinced her to go back to his dragons during the week, and Ron was beginning to feel like he was a child again with all of his brothers bossing him around.

“You’d think I was their house-elf,” he grumbles to Hermione when they find themselves alone in his room. “Just because I’m the youngest doesn’t mean they get to pass off their chores on me. I fought harder than any of the rest of them!”

“I know,” Hermione says soothingly though he can tell she’s trying to hide a smile.

“Lucky you don’t have any siblings,” he mumbles, laying his head in her lap.

“You’d get lonely without someone to bother you all the time,” Hermione says in an amused voice.

“After a while maybe,” but Ron’s not sure that it wouldn’t take years before he would miss being bossed around like this. He doesn’t say this though.

“Maybe we could get away for a few days,” Hermione says, running her fingers through his hair. “Go someplace, just us.” She pauses thinking it over. “Well, us and Harry anyway.”

Ron thinks that Harry could manage on his own without them for a few days and if he’s going to get away from it all he’d rather spend the time alone with Hermione.

“Where would you like to go?” he asks of her and then a thought pops into his head. “Australia?”

Hermione freezes at once. Ron had thought Hermione would have insisted on leaving straight after the battle in search of her parents. He was prepared to go with her too, leave his family behind to make sure she was safe. But Hermione hadn’t brought it up and he hadn’t pushed her on it. From time to time he and Harry would try and slip it into the conversation but Hermione would always change the subject.

“I don’t know about that far,” Hermione says carefully when she’s recovered.

Ron sits up, looking at her. “Why not? I would think you’d want to get your parents sorted before the start of term.”

Hermione is hesitant and he knows she’s about to become incredibly stubborn so rather than push her on it he simply reaches up to stroke her face.

“I’m here if you want to talk about it,” he tells her, quite convinced she’s about to cry and she curtains her hair around her face as he scrambles up to pull her into his arms.

“I’m not ready,” Hermione says after a full minute when her breathing is finally calm. “To face them.”

He says nothing, stroking her back slowly.

“I never told them, I was scared they wouldn’t let me go back.” Hermione continues, still hiding her face against his chest.

“Never told them what?” Ron asks.

“That there was a war going on, that Harry was the target, the blood supremacy, none of it.”

Ron is so stunned he can’t think of a single intelligent thing to say. He’d always admired but been slightly terrified of Hermione’s ability to put aside her own moral concerns to get to a solution and what she’d done with her parents had been no exception.

“Hermione,” he says finally when she begins to tremble from holding back tears.

“They wouldn’t have let me come back, I wouldn’t’ve if I’d known my child was on the frontlines. I had to lie to them, I just had to—“

Her voice was rising in octaves as it did only when she was very upset and on the cusp of losing control.

“I mean, I did tell them.” She says frantically as if trying to convince him of something. “Just before I altered them, I told them how much I loved them and how I didn’t have any other choice and that I was doing what I could to keep them safe but they didn’t understand.”

“Hermione,” Ron says firmly, holding her tight still to his chest, “What you did was incredibly brave. I know how hard it was for you to have to do that to them.” She let out a whimper. “And I know it’s selfish, but I’m glad that you did.”

This is what finally causes her to raise her head. There are tears in her eyes but they haven’t fallen and she stares at him.

“We couldn’t have done this without you, Hermione, none of it. Harry and I, we’d’ve died back in our first year if it hadn’t been for you and every year since.” She gave a pained smiled. “So, when you’re ready, I’ll go with you and we’ll make them understand why you did what you did, alright? Even if they’re never happy about it, we’ll make them understand why it had to happen.”

 

 

 

_Harry_

Originally they’d planned on moving back into Grimmauld Place but one visit from Bill ends the plan before it’s fully formed.

“This’ll take a month even if we work round the clock,” he tells them with a shake of his head. “I don’t think I’d be able to get it done before the end of the year, not with everything else going on.”

“It’s alright,” Harry says, trying his best not to sound disappointed.

It wasn’t that he particularly wanted to live back in the home that Sirius had hated, but it was difficult knowing the only other place he’d felt safe in was no longer inhabitable.

“I can give you a few names,” Bill says uneasily.

“If it’s all the same, I’d rather you do it,” Harry answers. “You never know who you can trust. Let me know your rate.”

Bill shakes his head, giving his first real smile. “Don’t worry Harry, you’re family. It’ll take some time but I’m sure it can be done by Christmas.”

Harry can feel his ears going red for some reason. “Thanks, Bill.”

“You lot really not going back to Hogwarts?” he asks of them. “Mum might have been shocked last night but I’m sure she’s come up with plenty of ways to persuade you by now.”

“If Hermione can’t I don’t see how she’s going to,” Ron says, giving Hermione a smile. “Sides, this is what we were planning on doing after, don’t see the point in waiting—“

He and Bill carry on into the Burrow but Hermione catches his look and hung back. “You alright Harry?”

“Yeah,” he answers, not bothering to put a smile on his face. “I just thought it’d be easier, going there.”

“I know,” Hermione nods.

“I can’t keep staying here,” he admits in a small voice. “But Molly—“

Hermione gave a knowing smile. “If Molly had it her way then none of them would ever move out.”

They were at the doorway now. Inside the kitchen, Percy and Ginny were pouring over some old textbooks, Ron had joined them, sitting at Ginny’s side and sneaking some of the food from her plate. Harry smiles at them as Ginny smacks away his hand and tells him to go and get his own.

“Do you think he’ll want to stay?” Harry asks, looking over at Hermione to find her looking lovingly at the scene.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Hermione asks in surprise, breaking eye contact to look at him. “Ron not wanting to move in with you?”

“Yeah,” he admits, “I mean, he’s spent the past year away from them and I know how hard that was on him.”

“Even if he wanted to stay Ron would enjoy being the only child in the home for about a week before he was at your door to complain.” Hermione smiles, shaking her head. “And we haven’t spent the past year with you, he’s been with you for the past seven. One awful extended camping trip doesn’t change a thing, Harry.”

“I know I just..” He trails off, unable to put into words how he’s been feeling. Harry glances back inside where Ron stares back, worriedly. He doesn’t want to make a scene.

“You need to stop thinking that we’re going to run away from you or get tired of you Harry,” Hermione says seriously. “We’re your family, it’s the three of us. Just because the fight is over doesn’t mean anything’s changed.”

 

 

_Hermione_

“That’s the last of it,” she says, frowning around at the bare flat.

Despite Bill’s warnings, Hermione knew that Harry had secretly been hoping to have the house finished before they felt the need to move out of the Burrow.

Molly would have had them stay forever, with each of her children departing she had tightened her grip on those that remained. First Charlie back to the dragons during the week and then for two at a time and now he came home once a month for dinner. Then Bill and Fleur back to Shell’s Cottage, Percy to his flat and the arms of the girl he hadn’t allowed them to meet yet. George it seemed was content to wallow in his childhood room for the time and just before Ginny and Hermione were due back at Hogwarts, Harry and Ron had made their escape.

The two-bedroom flat was dingier than she would have preferred and they’d certainly looked at better, but Harry had quickly given in to Ron’s protests of needing to pay for half.

“This is it?” Ron repeats doubtfully.

They haven’t any furniture aside from a table and chairs they’d acquired from the second tent. All of the others had smells so horrible Hermione hadn’t been keen to adapt them to their new home.

“It’s a beginning,” Harry tells them, the eternal optimist over their new living situation.

He had his good days and bad like the rest of them but Hermione knew he was all too happy to finally have a place of his own, with Ron; and her for the breaks. Somewhere permanent, somewhere that belonged to them.

“We could probably rescue the dishes from Grimmauld Place,” Hermione points out before Ron can notice that the kitchen is painfully stark. “Your mother sent enough provisions to last a month but I didn’t think to ask for anything to eat off of.”

“I’m sure we’ll manage,” Ron says, sounding considerably more pleased upon her mention of food. “We did eat mushrooms for months after all.”

Even Hermione turns up her nose at the memory of the awful food they’d been forced to consume. It would be a long time before she desired to do anything resembling camping.

“Too bad we didn’t learn any useful spells,” Harry says, turning to face them. “I don’t see how turning rats into goblets is going to help us now.”

“Honestly, do you want your goblets to be made from rats?” Hermione says, “I can’t believe they thought it useful to use animals to teach children.”

In school, she had far too much respect to argue with McGonagall about the best methods to learn transfiguration but her time away had given a new perspective. Ron and Harry are making faces too reminiscent of the ones she made whenever she brought up house-elves.

“It’s barbaric,” she snaps, “using animals to create objects for us, I can’t believe it’s still in the curriculum.”

“Maybe you can talk McGonagall into changing it,” Ron says before she can get going.

Hermione stares at him, uncertain whether he’s making fun of her and she should be cross, but he has a point. There had to be a better, more practical way to teach students magic. If only she had a library to…A small smile dawns on her face at the realization that in a few weeks she will have a library once more, and professors to talk to. It makes the prospect of leaving Harry and Ron a little brighter.

Ron is still staring at her uncertainly so she leans up and kisses his cheek.

“That’s a brilliant idea,” she tells him and he gets a satisfied smile on his face. “McGonagall already asked for me to tutor some of the younger students, I’m sure she’d be willing to hear what else I have to say.”

“You’re going to change the whole wizarding world, Hermione.” He tells her proudly.

She wants to kiss him but Harry clears his throat loudly and gestured around the room as he spoke. “That’s great Hermione, but what do you suggest for now?”

“The trunks might be enough to make a chest of drawers or two, but I think we’ll have to resort to the muggle method of buying from a store.”

The look on his face made it clear at once Harry had no interest in furniture shopping. They were still avoiding the public as much as possible. It seemed they couldn’t walk down the street without being accosted by reporters shouting questions at them and people trying to shake Harry’s hand. It made him deeply uncomfortable. Even more, since she and Ron had gained their own notoriety making them unable to act as shields.

“Muggle method,” Hermione tells them as they all look rather uncomfortable. “Muggle stores. Or I’m sure there are wizarding catalogs.”

Hermione knew the time they had left in their own little bubble was limited. In a short time, she would be returning to school and they would start at the ministry for Auror training. Soon, they would rejoin the wizarding world fully and live the lives they had fought for the right to live. But for now, she was rather happy to be healing with them.

 

 

_Ron_

 

“I’ve got to face them all eventually,” he heard Hermione’s voice from the bedroom as he emerged from the floo. “No point in putting it off.”

Hermione had gone back and forth, debating on whether to join the school for the beginning of term feast or simply arrive the next day in time for classes. Ron knew she wanted to avoid the spotlight and depending on the hour saw either as a worse choice. Harry was lounging on the enlarged bed, watching Hermione sort through the books she had in piles around her.

It was oddly reminiscent of the time before they’d gone Horcrux hunting, watching her sort through them as if her bag wasn’t big enough to hold them all. He knew it was soothing her, keeping her hands busy.

“Mum wants us for breakfast so we can all go to the station together,” Ron announces as he enters the room, kissing Hermione as if he’s been gone away for days rather than fifteen minutes and joins Harry on the bed.

“Ginny’ll be there,” Harry says consolingly, resuming their conversation with an amused look at them both.

“Yeah, but neither of you will,” she tells them both.

Usually, Ron would have picked a fight when she was in this sort of mood to distract her, but it doesn’t feel fair to on the night before she leaves them. Especially when he’s feeling the same way too.

“Don’t go making any new friends on the train,” Ron warns her, “You know that’s where all good friendship starts.”

Once, when he’d been particularly sappy and intoxicated, he’d told Harry that his life had begun when he’d met on that train. Harry had responded in kind, alternating between toasting them and professing how much he loved them. Alcohol still yielded a mixed reaction from them. 

“Your life may have begun on that train” Hermione teased, “but I distinctly remember you making fun of me for months.”

“We still make fun of you, love,” Ron reminds her gently.

For a moment she looks like she’s about to be cross but then dissolves into tears. “It’s going to be awful without you there.”

“Cheer up,” Harry says, “We’ll make sure to tease you enough on the weekends that it’ll carry you through the week.”

“You’re both insufferable,” Hermione says, but she’s smiling now as she makes her way around the bed to deposit herself between them. Ron uses this opportunity to pull her against his side and kiss her hungrily again.

“Where are you going?” Hermione’s sharp voice asks, breaking his concentration.

“It’s okay,” Harry says to them both and Ron opens his eyes to see him trying in inch out of the room. “Honest, you two spend some time together, I daresay I’ve witnessed this enough.”

It had to be difficult for Harry, the beginning of their relationship coinciding with the end of the war. None of them could be apart from one another so Harry had gotten his good share of watching them kiss. Though to be fair, there was never a good time before for their relationship to start and Ron wasn’t going to wait any longer.

“We’ll stop,” Hermione says for them at once, though Ron would beg to differ. “Please don’t leave, it’s our last night for who knows how long?”

There’s still a frantic note to her tone and evidently, Harry hears it too because he drops back down in their shared bed and takes her hand.

“In four days,” Harry reminds her.

“What?” Hermione asks.

“Till we see each other again,” Harry continues. “You’ll only be gone for four days and then you’ll be home again.”

“Home,” Hermione repeats to him as if testing out the word and nods. “I know I’m being ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” Ron agrees, kissing the side of her head. “You are.”

But Ron didn’t think he’d be fairing much better faced with the prospect of being separated from them, not for a week after week and he finds new respect for Hermione leaving them for school. They still haven’t managed to separate at night. Or sorted their sleeping arrangements once Hermione’s no longer with them. Ron’s not keen on sharing the oversized bed with Harry alone, but perhaps he could talk to Hermione about transfiguring them into two, or maybe get camp beds for the second bedroom that had been used only as a staging ground for Hermione reorganizing her bag, and collecting a respectable amount of dust for the month they’d lived here.

Codependent, that’s the word Hermione had used for them, not that any of them minded. It was insulting to imply that they wouldn’t be reliant on one another after all they had been through.

“Have you made sure you have everything you need for your first day?” Hermione interrupts his pondering of where exactly he’s going to sleep the night after tomorrow.

“Yes,” they chorus as if Hermione hadn’t already seen to their training robes being pressed and hanging on the back of the door, waiting for the day after next when they would be used for the first time. When he and Harry would start their next adventure.

 

 

 

_Harry_

At Mrs. Weasley’s insistence, they had breakfast at the Burrow before going off together to the station.

He’d only endured a “Are you sure you don’t want to go?” thrice from Mrs. Weasley before they’d been shepherdedout the door and to the train station. For the first time in memory, they arrived a full half an hour before the train’s scheduled departure and it was to a full platform of worried-looking family members and harassed looking ministry workers who would be accompanying the train.

From the corner of his eye, he watches as Ron carries Hermione’s trunk onto the train, their bickering from this morning still echoed in his ears.

_“I don’t know why you aren’t just using your bag, you’ll only be there until the weekend.”_

_“I know, it would just feel odd to be going to Hogwarts without one.”_

Ginny was struggling with her own trunk behind them, none of her family seemed to have noticed her slipping off.

“Want some help with that?” he asks of Ginny, bending down and picking it up easily before she could answer.

Ginny’s mouth twitches as if she couldn’t decide between amusement and telling him off for being protective but settled on a nod, following him onto the train and into a compartment where Ron and Hermione were blocking the doorway, quite oblivious to anyone around them.

“Oh they must be fun to live with,” Ginny says loudly after nearly running into Harry. And then more loudly when they didn’t separate, “You aren’t the only people needing to get through.”

Ron removes one of the hands holding Hermione off the ground and gave her a hand gesture that Ginny rolls her eyes at. Their lips part and Hermione blushes deeply but doesn't do anything to disentangle as they stepped far enough to the side to let Harry though.

“They’re not usually this bad,” Harry tells Ginny as Ron and Hermione pause long enough for them to pass before resuming their goodbye. “Nothing like he was with Lavender.”

Harry dodges Ron’s attempt to hit him as they hurry off the train.

“Where are Ron and Hermione?” Mrs. Weasley asks at once when they rejoined the fray that was getting more attention than Harry would like.

“Oh, I expect they’ll be ages yet,” Ginny answers, obliging her mother a hug. “Don’t be surprised if you get a letter asking for school fees.”

Harry grins at her. She smiles back, the same sort of smile she’d given him whenever he caught her looking at him during those stolen moments alone together. With a sudden bit of courage he didn’t know he had, he leans close to her and whispers “Could I have a word?”

At once Ginny follows him away towards the wall opposite the tracks. It’s hardly less crowded over here, every inch of the place seemed to be filled with loved ones, but at least it’s a little quieter. Harry was utterly unsure of what he wanted to say to her now that they were alone. Nothing seems sufficient and he wished he’d managed the courage before the moment she was supposed to be leaving him to tell her how he really felt.

“Look after yourself,” he tells her firmly.

“I always do,” Ginny smiles at him, understanding him all the same.

“And Hermione,” he continues.

Ginny smirks, “Hermione knows how to take care of herself too.”

“I know,” Harry nods. “But she’s not okay yet.”

“None of us are.”

He resists the urge to kiss her. Ginny seems to read his mind and wraps her arms around his middle. Her flowery perfume enters his nose and he is flooded again with a desire to profess his love for her. He knows she won’t take this well, and it wouldn’t be fair to tell her in the middle of the train station just as she’s about to depart from him for months.

“Would it be alright if I wrote to you?” he asks, aware of the many curious eyes on them as he draws away, his cheeks pleasantly warm.

Ginny smiles again as she nods. “You could even come visit me on Hogsmeade weekends, so long as you don’t bring any of my brothers along.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” They separate, much too soon and her eyes twinkle as she kisses his cheek.

Ron and Hermione are waiting for him as Ginny disappears back into the throng to hug her mother and father goodbye. Their arms are still around each other and Hermione looks rather flushed.

“You got the mirror?” Harry asks before they could ask him about what he and Ginny had spoken about.

“Of course,” Hermione answers, patting the beaded bag still clutched in her free hand. It looked as worn as it had when the battle had ended but they no longer did.

“Call us tonight,” Harry tells her, “So we know you got settled okay.”

“If anything were to happen I daresay that you’d hear about it straight away,” Hermione says with a nervous sort of laugh, grabbing his forearm reassuringly. He grins, failing to look stern. “I’ll call you as soon as I get settled, I _promise_.”

Harry knew he was feeling overprotective, but their time separated in battle is the longest they’ve been apart since she’d been apart of the rescue team from the Dursley’s. Already he was dreading returning to their flat where she would no longer be. For a moment he considers jumping on the train behind her, riding away to Hogwarts to put off whatever was next for another year. So it can be just the three of them for a little while longer. Hermione seems to feel the same way from how strongly she was gripping him still.

They all had the same idea at once as Hermione threw her arms around both of their necks, Ron’s arm coming around Harry’s middle and Harry’s arms going around them both protectively. They stood there, in a three-way embrace, holding onto each other tightly as the ministry officials began to usher students onto the train. All around them parents were wishing their children goodbye, holding longer than normal, tighter.

“Oh this is silly,” Hermione says as she pulled away with tears in her eyes, their arms still draped around one another. “I’ll see you both on Friday.”

“Be safe,” Harry tells her, his throat hurting as he watched Hermione give Ron a kiss and tearfully turn away from them.

She jogs over to the train, the Auror waiting on her looking less than amused, and hurries off to the compartment where Ginny was already sitting with Luna. As the scarlet engine begins to steam, shuddering to a start Harry watches her wave at them frantically. He knows it probably looks rather odd to respond with as much enthusiasm but it feels like an easy release to the energy inside of him. His last sight of her was a teary smile, face pressed to the glass.

“Feels strange not to be going back,” Ron says in an odd tone, voicing the feeling inside of Harry.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, not looking at him for fear of seeing his own conflicting emotions reflected on Ron’s face. “Though without us, Hogwarts should finally have a sufficiently boring year.”

“Hermione’ll be thrilled,” Ron says with a hint of pride in his voice.

It was hard to believe it had been seven years since they had met in this same spot, completely unaware of what adventures were in store. Harry wished he had known his life was beginning that day, though, in a strange way, he felt like his life was beginning again. Tomorrow they would report to the Ministry for their first shift as Aurors in training. For all he was feeling he could have been eleven, on the precipice of his first great adventure and was glad to have the same friend by his side.

 


End file.
